Into The Sun
by sillym3
Summary: Quitting, giving up, stopping or walking into the sun.


**Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement intended. The main characters belong to CBS and other entities.

**A/N:** Sylvie commented on how some old-timers had quit and "given-up" GSR fan fiction. The comment lead to this mix of rather sad drabbles. Enjoy.

* * *

><p><strong>INTO THE SUN<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>#Greg#<strong>

One could not sign one hundred copies of a paperback edition without having a cramped arm.

It was a lesson Greg had not-so-gracefully learned from his first book signing. Keeping the intake of wine and fruit bar steady helped a lot and that was why he now had a glass of wine in one hand and a pen in the other.

He was halfway through signing the first fifty when his phone rang. The caller ID showed Archie.

"Sanders." He set down the half-filled glass onto the table.

"Are you busy?"

"No, just doing a little book signing." There was unbidden smugness in his voice. Twirling the pen between his fingers Greg recalled his days back at the lab. He enjoyed working as a crime fighter but he enjoyed putting his experience into his writing more.

"We're at Billy the Billionaire, care to leave the novels at home and join us for a game of nine-balls?"

"Stop calling my international best-seller a trashy crime novel and I might consider coming to kick all your asses."

He could hear Bobby and Henry snorting and a choked laugh that suspiciously sounded like Hodges' in the background.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, just Hodges saying that now you are an author instead of a CSI, you can't even beat him at the game of clue."

"That's it you band of geeky brothers," He threw the pen away. "I'm coming!"

Admittedly he was always a former lab rat, no matter how many best-sellers he had authored.

* * *

><p><strong>#Nick#<strong>

The marble and a picture of Mandy and their daughter were the last items he put into the only cardboard box left open. He grinned at recalling the hidden advice given by Grissom as the entomologist had given him the marble then he grinned some more at the sight of a postcard lying on top of his stacked boxes.

He got the card yesterday; the square paper depicted a famous Buddhist temple and a handwriting he knew by heart.

Greeting from Indonesia and congratulation on your promotion, Mr. Lab Director

Mr. & Mrs. Grissom

He smiled, walking out of the supervisor office knowing that he'd miss working in the field.

_When life ever gets you a promotion, roll with it._

* * *

><p><strong>#Jim#<strong>

He didn't remember the pain.

He remembered Nick's face though, how worry and fear flashed across it as the CSI had rushed up to him.

He remembered the Sheriff calling him a Las Vegas Hero in front of hundreds of people when he received the Medal of Honor just an hour ago or so.

He had so many memories around the accident that took his legs away yet the pain was one that he could not describe.

Now in a wheelchair, he felt useless, a man living an aimless life.

His eyes fixed on the wall listing the names of his coworkers that had died in the line of duty and he suddenly wished that he was one of them.

Oh how he wished the explosion had taken his life instead.

"Captain Brass?" A voice, just a few decibels above a whisper, not fitting of the crowded PD called behind him and he swiveled the wheels to see.

"Thank you for saving me." A little girl, reddish hair in a pony tail, freckled face, chubby cheeks and a doubtful smile showing missing teeth, handed him the stem of a yellow rose. "And my mom." She looked up lovingly to a woman behind her.

He took the flower, letting out a baffled helpless sigh when the little girl wrapped her little arms around him.

For the first time since the accident his tears fell.

For the first time since the accident he knew he worth something.

* * *

><p><strong>#Sara#<strong>

It was on her own terms now.

No more decisions made in haste or emotionally. No more ghosts to chase away. No more oblivious lover left behind.

No hallway PDA for Hodges to see.

She had turned in her vest, her badge and her service weapon to Nick with her chin up; no tears nor forlorn look.

Instead of a cab, Grissom was waiting in his Mercedes outside. Together they would head to Frank's, where their friends awaited for breakfast.

It wouldn't be their last breakfast together. She was pretty sure of it.

Then there would be a second honeymoon to exotic countries in Asia.

And maybe later, much later, she could talk Grissom into having a baby, an adopted one if they could not have their own.

She threw the row of lockers one last look, for the first time realizing that this room was where everyday started and ended.

And her day as a CSI had met its graceful end.

* * *

><p><strong>#Catherine#<strong>

She took a whiff of the perfume she had just sprayed, for a moment indulging in her favorite smell.

The locker room was empty but the break room was filled with people eager to throw her a farewell party. She didn't want to say goodbye to her friends smelling like her previous 419.

Farewell.

Goodbye.

She never thought that this time would come. Not this soon.

But finding happiness was getting difficult in this cruel world, as did finding a good man. She needed to claim her share of both while they lasted.

She put the curvy red bottle of eau de cologne in her designer bag, glancing at the last item left in her locker.

It was an old picture of the graveyard shift, taken a long, long time ago.

She gave a wan smile before tucking the picture in her jacket pocket, making a promise to visit Warrick's grave before going to wherever Lou would take her.

* * *

><p><strong>#Grissom#<strong>

He walked down the hallway in peace. Sounds were mentally muted as he tried to inhale every memory left in this building into his soul.

He didn't feel like quitting.

Or giving up.

Or running away.

He was just walking into the sun.

Into his sun.

**EnD**

* * *

><p>Thank you for reading.<p> 


End file.
